


we are slow moving accidents

by crookeds



Category: Free!
Genre: Angst, Injury, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-14
Updated: 2014-09-14
Packaged: 2018-02-17 08:41:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2303588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crookeds/pseuds/crookeds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>in hindsight, sousuke finds doubt. </p><p>(and anger, and guilt, and regret)</p>
            </blockquote>





	we are slow moving accidents

It’s the bugs that get to him first.

Sousuke stands in what’s now a half empty room, Rin’s things already gone and the cicadas chirping what he thinks is louder than usual. Of course, the simple solution is to close the window. 

But nostalgia that’s too soon and too much all at once invades his mind and he unwillingly sees Matsuoka Rin from a month ago laying on the floor of their shared dorm room. 

Rin fans himself, a magazine crumpled up in one hand with required reading material in the other. Sousuke notices a little too quickly that his shirt’s been lifted enough to reveal his part of his stomach (it’s just a little bit but he’s toned and muscular and definitely appealing), eyeing it almost suspiciously as he carefully steps over him. He’s already leaning on the window sill when Rin complains.

“Don’t close the window.”

And Sousuke’s back to looking at him, effortlessly pretending that he doesn’t notice how Rin’s shirt covers his stomach again when he sits back up. “I’m closing the window.”

“It’s too hot! The fan’s broken because of you anyways.”

He sighs and turns his head away, grumbling when he says, “Don’t remind me.”

Sousuke frowns when he makes the mistake of looking back. Rin pouts, probably unaware that he’s even doing so.

He doesn’t close the window.

Reality suddenly leaks back into his field of vision when he feels his shoulder ache, stinging even more than usual. He stands there only a few minutes longer before finally shutting the window, pretending he can’t hear the cicadas anymore.

 

\---

 

A week later he’s in Tokyo. More specifically he’s in a doctor’s office - it’s familiar and he’s been here several times already, and the sinking feeling in his stomach is just as recognizable as the cream colored walls and sound of heels against the hardwood floor. His mother waits in the lobby and a short, thin woman wearing a white labcoat stares him down, expression caught between angry and baffled.

“You were under strict orders not to strain yourself.”

He doesn’t reply.

“The only reason I allowed you to keep swimming was because you insisted.” 

He doesn’t reply, but he looks at the wall, distracts himself with the fact that the wallpaper is peeling at some of its edges.

“And even then I told you to pace yourself. Yamazaki-san, are you listening to me?”

He doesn’t reply, and even if he did he’d say no, stubborn and careless.

“You’ll need surgery, obviously. Surgery, treatment, healing. Do you understand that?”

This time he at least manages a single nod.

“You’ll never swim again. Why did you do this to yourself, Yamazaki-san?”

His eyes stay glued to the floor and his fingers dig into the cushion of his seat. “I had my reasons for doing what I did.”

Her expression softens and she tilts her head, looking sad now. Sousuke thinks, no, knows that even if he were miles away he could still feel the pity directed his way. It’s infuriating.

“I hope your reasons were worth it, then.”

 

\---

 

They offer him a shoulder brace for the time being. 

This one is black and heavy and too easy to notice, even under the layers and layers of clothing. He asks to put it on alone (because it’s not as if he hasn’t been through this before) and they leave him be in a room with a body length mirror and more peeling wallpaper.

He certainly takes his time.

In fact, Sousuke spends a good minute or two staring at his own reflection before bothering with the brace. He’s shirtless and pinching at his stomach, expressionless while wondering if there’s a point to continuing a training regimen after this is all said and done.

Wondering if there’s a point to anything he did before, after this is all said and done.

The thought runs through his mind and pokes at him enough so that he suddenly shifts from a blank stare to a heavy pressed scowl. He clearly made his choice; struck every chord with Rin like a hammer when he defined his dream and accepted his losses at the same time.

So he feels a flash of anger when he also recognizes regret in the aftermath.

(and guilt)

Sousuke puts the shoulder brace on a little too carelessly and sucks in a breath at the burn and pain that ebbs away at him, teeth grinding and frustration too noticeable as he crumples the shirt in his hand. But it doesn’t stop. All at once he feels like he’s peeling at his own edges, his chest gets tight and he feels like his lungs should be flooding but they aren’t--

But that doesn’t mean he can breathe.

His eyes widen and he suddenly doubles over, shallow breathing forced into near silence as he mixes in low curses and tries (and fails) to calm himself down.

He’s angry (at his impulses, his stubborn self, at the consequences that continue to unravel before him) and the realization threatens to undo him completely. 

(and guilty)

(so, so, guilty)

**Author's Note:**

> a short fic that i wrote while feeling very unsatisfied with the way kyoani wrapped up sousuke's arc... that's all i'll say about that. i might continue this though! anyways, happy birthday, sousuke, i made you miserable.


End file.
